


did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

by shadeestate



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Demon Bill Cipher, Enemies to Lovers, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Older Dipper Pines, Older Mabel Pines, lack of historical accuracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-01-24 02:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeestate/pseuds/shadeestate
Summary: Would you believe it, Bill Cipher was an angel once. Luckily that was just a phase. Dipper Pines seemed caught in the middle of a new one, or life, or whatever the meatbags called it. Sure he was surprised seeing him gift-wrapped and about to be sacrificed on his altar, but only because he hadn’t seen him in so long. Why not step in?Dipper just wanted to go home. But after saving him, Bill entrapped him in a deal that could put everyone he knew in danger. He needed to escape from the Mindscape, never mind navigating how oddly Bill treats him.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

He saw man getting spat out of the earth, wept at the trumpets of creation, and applauded old Sol’s debut. Bill Cipher, bona fide angel, at His former service.

Heaven was more of a benevolent autocracy. The Big Guy sent a pager and the angels came flying. Sure they had their own jobs and strengths—he couldn’t accuse the Big Guy of a lack of imagination—but there was only so far a program could run. 

He tried to make it better, of course. Slapped on a few personality traits, a couple of ideas, intelligence. A lot of them Fell, though that might not have been what He was shooting for. 

Personally, he fell for a guy. Apparently that was too much for The Big One, so he Fell the rest of the way, and well. Then he found out he liked tricking gullible idiots, so The Big One was right once again. Funny how things worked out. 

Sure he might’ve held a flame, but after the hell-prison slackened and demons trickled into the world, he thought that was that. Meatbags had a shelf-life of what, two years? Something about appreciating the meaning of life, not like those stupid demons who couldn’t appreciate eternity. The Big One was permanent, the best bet for all creation, sprinkle the symbolism. Basically, he expected his fling to be sort of dead, at least. 

Imagine his surprise when he was summoned by another cult, a human sacrifice trussed up on the altar. All that concentrated intent caught his attention. A cursory glance showed the sacrifice was dressed in his colors. The cheery yellow robe trailed down the alter, triangles sewn everywhere into the fabric. Cultists murmured incantations to smokeless candles and stepping to precise, unheard rhythms. Darkness hung heavy in the air. The leader stepped up, the jewels embedded on her dark robe glinting back the candlelight like stars. She posed the knife above the sacrifice’s chest, her hand pressed to the sacrifice’s throat. A blindfold covered his eyes, and hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. He squirmed as much as he could, but the cult practically cocooned him. 

This was going to be good. Bill leaned forward, grin spreading across his face, as he watched from a window in the Mindscape. The chanting rose to a pitch on the edge of shrill, and as it reached its peak, the leader raised the knife above her head.

Dipper flailed then, in what should have been a last, desperately human gesture. Instead it shifted his hair away from his forehead and revealed a certain constellation spattered on it. That startled a laugh out of him, and he stood, nabbing his cane and dusting the imaginary dust off his pants. What were the chances of two people with the Big Dipper printed on their heads?

“Wait, wait, wait.” He stepped into reality like he was hopping over a fence and bowed to his beautiful, gaping audience, one arm extended to the side like he was soaking up spotlight. “What a full house. Love what you did with the place. I know it must have taken ages to prepare him but I’m afraid I’ll have to take him alive.” He smirked. “I trust that won’t be a problem?”

The leader stepped forward with a moment’s hesitation, knife still clutched tightly in her hand. The extra gold patterns shimmered along her cloak, and he liked that, so she was okay in his book. Bill propped his head on top of his cane, half-closing his eyes. He waved her on with a faint smile. 

“We did not expect the honor of seeing you today, Cipher,” she said from behind the shadows veiling her face. “If I may ask, why are you taking him?”

“Is that knowledge you’re asking for?” He grinned, lightly baring his pointed teeth. “You know the price of that.”

She bowed her head. “Of course. Then I assume our deal still stands?”

“The mental espionage’ll be a snap. We’ll work out the finer details later.” He turned around and his fingers teased the edges of the blindfold. Dipper’s throat bobbed, swallowing thickly and audibly. “I’ll be back,” he singsonged.

With a rap of his cane against the alter, he vanished them into a blue inferno, until only the wisps of ghostly ash settled on the sacrificial dais. 

When it came to the substance of the Mindscape, his home away from home, it was perfect. The grass looked spiky enough, and crunched under heels, like in real life. The wind brushed limply against his face and rustled the pine needles in the distance. However, the flash, the most important part, was just not there at all. Every time the Mindscape sketched itself into existence, there wasn’t a speck of color except for him. And Dipper now, scooped into his arms. Honestly, he felt a little annoyed. It was hard to do grandiose without neon. 

“Uh, thanks?” Dipper asked. He looked around like if he tried hard enough he could defeat the purpose of a blindfold. “For saving my life. Could you take off the ropes and the blindfold?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll keep them there.” He grinned, leaning until there were only inches between their faces, with Dipper none the wiser. He stroked the hair away from his forehead and eyed the constellation underneath. “You look cute without your eyes.”

Dipper stiffened at his touch. Then he swung down his arms and smashed his fists over Bill’s head. 

He burst out laughing, and let him slip out of his hands like a chain of silk scarves. Dear old Dipper collapsed because the ropes did what ropes were supposed to, but he stuck his encased hands under the blindfold and pried it off. The second his eyes fell on Bill, his mouth fell open in blank shock. 

It might’ve been millennia since he saw those doe-eyes, but the pre-Fall memories were refined to crystal clarity after burning in hell. There was no one else he could be. 

He propped a hand on his hip, and leaned over to peer down at him. “Aw, Dipper, you’re not sulking about how I left you hanging, are you?”

“Who—wait, what—how—“

“I mean, it has been a while,” he said agreeably, kneeling next to Dipper, “but it’s like you’ve never seen me before in your life.”

“I’ve read about you but I don’t—”

“Frankly, I’m feeling insulted. And my cultists don’t have the same imagination I do.”

Dipper’s mouth clicked shut, but he scanned the Mindscape’s trees, struggling against the rope. “What do you want?” he gritted through his teeth.

Bill reached out to tap his rope-encased foot. It unraveled slowly, and Dipper blinked in surprise before squinting at him suspiciously. 

“How’d a thing like you get involved with a cult like me?”

“I—why are you asking?”

Bill tapped the rope again, and it stopped. “If I tap it twice, it’ll squeeze your stomach out your mouth.” 

“I dug too deep and I filled in some crazy sacrificial criteria,” Dipper blurted. 

The summons matched Dipper’s description? Or someone like Dipper. Huh. Good to know. “So you’re a little magician? That’s cute.” He tapped the rope again. “Why, you look positively radiant, Dipper.”

He flinched, squirming in discomfort. The ropes were unwound to his knees now. 

“I changed my mind. You’d look better with one eye instead of none. Which one’s your favorite?”

“Uh, both of them?” he said, voice cracking. Before Bill could chide him, Dipper blurted, “Why am I alive?”

He pouted. Really, a philosophical type? “That’s a big question for a meatbag.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said hastily. “It’s just—the ritual said death. They never, uh, go into what happens to the dead body after—“

Bill smiled, flashing his teeth. Dipper shuddered, but continued doggedly, “I mean, you probably didn’t keep them alive,” he finished. 

“No.”

The ropes were untied up to his stomach, so before Dipper could get any funny ideas, he put his hand over Dipper’s. Dipper’s eyes flickered to it, then blanched when he noticed Bill’s claws, his fingers curling into a tight fist. It just made it easier to engulf. Kid didn’t seem too smart in this life, unfortunately. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how I know you?” Bill asked, fluttering his lashes. The bafflement and discomfort clashed so hard on Dipper’s face he looked vaguely constipated.

“Yeah...” he said, and leaned back as far as he could. Eyes darting between the ropes and Bill, he asked, “How do you know me, oh great and mighty Bill Cipher?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” he gushed. “I know lots of things. _Lots of things_. Your pathetic little life isn’t even an open book compared to mine. It’s a pamphlet, and probably not even a good one.”

Poor thing bristled, glaring at him like it didn’t make him cute. Not much to do when he was tied down to just below his chest and an interdimensional being holding his hands. He could see him bite down on an insult. Adorable. 

“But that’s alright,” he cooed, tightening his grip. The claws of his hand retracted into human nails. “We can write a better one.”

Dipper yelled a word and an invisible something sliced into his stomach. He burst into laughter as his knees buckled to the ground. Blood poured from the crooked gash, and blackness shadowed his vision. Dipper dashed into the forest, carrying the hastily bundled up rope in his arms. Sadly, with his brown hair and yellow robe flying behind him, he was a little eye catching. Maybe if he bleached himself Mindscape-grey. 

He idly gathered his intestines pulsating on the grass, still grinning inanely, and shoved them back in. This Pine Tree had more needles than the one he remembered. Should’ve expected it, if his little magician was curious enough to dig into demons like him. Steam hissed out of the wound as his organs degraded into a shapeless, roiling mass. The gash slowly winked shut. The only hint it ever existed was a giggle popping out his lips and the blood greying into the blades of grass.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Bill crowed, cupping a blood-drenched hand to the side of his mouth. Then he leaned back, waiting for the Mindscape to offer Dipper’s location. 

All he got was the wind sweeping through it, not a flapping yellow robe in sight. No brown hair ruffled in the breeze, no bright smile aimed at him.

Not a single color in sight. 

He frowned, then squinted into the trees. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He was in his center of power, and he couldn’t see Dipper. Come to think of it, he didn’t know about Dipper at all until a few minutes ago.

“Dipper? Come back,” he snapped. Not like the forest could answer. Huffing a breath, he stalked into the grey forest.

Every now and then, a stray branch crackled across the air. Sometimes they came from the left, sometimes from behind, so he would turn to follow, the logs rolling obediently out of his way when he scowled at them. Eventually, the sounds stopped close to the clearing containing his humble abode. A few trees lingered nearby, branches nearly brushing by the house’s windows in case someone soft and fleshy took a flying leap. Usually humans sort of froze when they saw the human teeth garlands strung over the broken windows. That was a wild party. 

He leaned a hip against a tree at the far edge of the clearing and watched it, drumming his fingers against the wood in thought. 

“If you leave me again, I’m not responsible for what happens,” he said, scanning the surroundings. Leaves dusted the floor, unbroken and uncrushed. The trees above towered over him, branches near groaning under the weight of even more leaves. Dipper wouldn’t wait in his house on their first date. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy in this life or the past one. “Come on, Dipper. It’s not too late.“

Another breeze passed him by, shuffling the leaves over his shoe. 

An idea sprung into his mind, and he beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “If you really want me to play a game, you just had to ask."

With that, he marched to the tree closest to his house and clapped. The pine needles sloughed off like snakeskin, landing in chest-high piles all around the tree. 

Dipper had tied the rope around a branch and clung to it, the gold robe and the rope dangling off his body like a flag on a windless day. He just stared down at Bill. If he squinted, he could see the whites of Dipper’s eyes from the ground. He waded through the leaves until he was just underneath him, smiling from ear to ear. 

“That’s a cold reception. By the way, you aimed a little low when you tried to break my heart.” Bill’s grin widened. “I busted a gut laughing instead. Wanna see?”

Dipper shook his head, then hastily scampered up the rope and clambered onto the branch.

“Why don’t you come down? I’ve got something to show you.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dipper said faintly. 

“Really, I didn’t expect you to go for a kill-shot. You’ve really changed. That would’ve killed any normal meatbag, and then you might have stolen all my teeth.”

“I mean I don’t even know you?” Sweat dripped down his face. His face was red, and his limbs were starting to tremble. “I’ve read one book about you.”

Demonology again. What was up with that? “I might start to take that personally,” he said evenly. “Now make like a romance and fall into my arms.”

The kid had just enough time to look insulted before he slipped. Bill smiled, held out his arms, and took one large step back.

Pine Tree squawked on impact. 

“That poor pile,” Bill simpered. 

Dipper’s hand twitched, and he dug himself out of the leaves like the living dead, scowling murderously at Bill. 

“You can’t keep me here,” he snapped, jabbing his pointer finger at him.

“Try it, Pine Tree. I’ve got my eye on you.” A physical one, at least. “In fact, if you do escape, you won’t ever have to see me in your life again.” He waggled his fingers and blue fire engulfed his hand. “We could shake on it.”

“Pine Tree? Just—never mind.” Dipper’s eyes narrowed at the flames, and he scrambled to his feet, dusting the leaves off his robe. “It can’t be that easy. What’s the catch?”

”If you want to, we could still see each other whenever you like,” he said sweetly. “You’ve read my book.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no thanks. Why should I agree to this deal?”

“Have any friends, Dipper? Any family?” he asked, avidly watching Dipper freeze. “I’d like to meet them. If you have any,” he snickered. 

“Leave them out of this!” His fists were trembling at his sides. 

“Now that is a deal.” He withdrew his hand from the fire and let it curl around his hand. “So what’s it going to be? I’m getting curious—“

“Alright, fine!” Dipper said, eyes wide, and seized his hand. 

The usual unpleasant jolt shot up his arm and left it ringing as the deal settled across his being like a chain. He leaned close, grin splitting his face as he spotted the emotions play across Dipper’s face in the light of the fire. There was anger, obviously, dragging down his brows. Despair in a flicker of his eyes, determination in the set of his jaw. The flush in his cheeks, the heat in his gaze, the same lips from way back when moving—

“Uh, Bill Cipher?” Dipper grimaced, trying to peel out of Bill’s grip with his other hand. “Your blood’s flaking onto my hands.” He gagged, tugging harder. “And are demon handshakes supposed to last this long? The fire’s gone.”

He blinked, and let go. His hand felt emptier as it fell to his side. “So it is,” he said blankly. 

For a moment, he wanted to grab his chin and yank him so their lips crashed together. It had been millennia, and he wanted to see what changed and what hadn’t. If Dipper still moaned when he scraped his teeth down his lip, if he shivered when he dug his fingers into his back and dragged them, inch by inch.

It’d take him completely by surprise. Ever the blushing virgin, even when, or if, he wasn’t. It wasn’t like he knew, anymore. He could do it. 

But where was the fun in that?

“Call me Bill,” he blurted. There, half-buried in the leaves with him, and maniacal grin a beat too late, he raised his arms and said, “Welcome to the Mindscape.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Let me get this out of the way,” Dipper said, scrubbing the needles out of his hair. If Bill gave him a straight answer it’d be a miracle. “Can I actually escape? Are you even going to let me?”

“Why, scared of a little death? Torment? Some peace and quiet?” He made a face. “There’s plenty of that in the real world so what’s a little spectacle between friends?”

“We’re not friends,” he said flatly. “And you didn’t answer a single question.”

“Say, Pine Tree. Know what it means saving a life that dies in three seconds?” He leaned forward, flicking a pine needle out of his hair. Dipper stiffened, watching Bill’s smile meld into the blank intensity of his eye.

“U-Uh.” He shook his head mutely, tensed to run.

“Your meats rot, your bones turn to ash, blah blah blah. Point is, there isn’t a reason to bother, with a few exceptions. I’m still trying to think one up for you.” He paused, eye narrowed and hand on his chin like he was trying to justify his existence right now. “So, Pine Tree. Waste my effort. Stab me again and see what that gets you.”

He blanched. Black grass rustled underfoot as Bill stepped closer. Dipper glanced away, swallowing, but he gritted his teeth. “Thanks for the freebie, now are you going to cheat your stupid game or what?” he bit out.

“I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you,” he said playfully, slinging an arm over Dipper’s shoulder. “But what am I saying? I can’t just leave you in the woods when you’re stuck. I’ve got a bed inside you’d like,” he teased.

Another question never answered. He ducked under his arm, everything in him jittering. “What, you aren’t going to cure me of having legs or something?”

“Sheesh,” he laughed, “I don’t think you get it, gifts aren’t about subtracting.”

What the heck was that supposed to mean? “You—if I go into that shack, you won’t torture me or anything?” he asked desperately.

“Sure, why not?”

“Wait, what?” he asked. Bill said it so casually it was like he issued another death threat.

“You heard me. Now come on, time is souls,” he said, rubbing his hands together as he walked to the porch.

Dipper glanced at the forest helplessly, scanning the pine needles like his lifeline was woven in them. Jumping at the pointed creak of the shack’s door, he tore his eyes away and trudged past Bill keeping the door open with his foot. Somehow it didn’t feel like a courtesy.

Behind him, the door sank into the ground in a slow blink. The hallway splayed in front of him, so long it tapered to a black point somewhere far in the distance. Doors lined the walls and ceiling like a thousand eyes. Bill, sitting on the body of his cane, glided through the wall and stared down at him, swinging his legs.

“How’s the place you wanted to burgle?” he asked.

“Uh. Nice… hall.”

His lips twitched. “Boy, you really aren’t a natural criminal.”

“Look—“ he snapped, before shutting his mouth.

“I’m all eyes,” he cajoled, slipping off his cane. He picked it out of the air and smiled at him, almost invitingly. For a moment, he thought he saw eyes popping out of his skin, some bloodshot and all swiveling toward him, before they disappeared like soap bubbles.

Mouth open, he couldn’t speak. That could’ve been his imagination. Maybe he snapped. But it was Bill. Everything that happened to him was because of Bill, one way or another. And after everything that happened, he couldn’t help but see red.

“Look, you crazy, multi-under-eyed sacrifice self-poacher, what do you want from me? You broke your own dumb ritual and now you’re asking me to give you a reason why I should live? If you’re that on the fence about all this then let me—let everyone I know—go!”

He didn’t know what he expected but Bill’s eye _ gleaming _ wasn’t it and he just made a huge mistake. “I’m so glad you asked,” Bill preened, before swinging the crook of his cane around his neck and pulling him close. As Dipper staggered, hands leaping to the cane, Bill’s other hand gently combed his hair back and gripped.

“I’ll admit you put me on the spot when you showed up all of a sudden. I mean, after all this time?” His eye roamed over his face like he was drinking him in. Heart hammering in his chest, he yanked his head back but Bill’s hands didn’t move an inch. Tears pricked his eyes from his pulled scalp while the cane settled on his neck like a cold weight. “Believe me, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got brains to pick. Just tell these doors wherever you want to go and they’ll take you there, within reason. Think about everything you could burgle,” he added, ruffling his hair playfully, and unlatched the cane from his neck.

Dipper stumbled away until his back hit a wall, knocking a shaky breath out of him.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Bill said, and strolled past him to another door, waving him closer. 

He looked at him.

Bill grinned and held up his hands, his cane skidding down his arm. “Alright, alright. You sure? I don’t mind playing teacher if it’s a little hands-on.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said coldly.

“Suit yourself.” Bill shrugged. He turned back to the door and said, “Reality.” The door swung open and he strutted through with a lively wave as he left Dipper, gaping, in the hall.

His freedom shut, inch by inch, behind the ashen wood, and he could just watch. Limbs numb, breath caught in his throat, he lurched for the handle far too late. Did it close before he reached it or did he slam it shut himself?

“Reality! Reality, real life!” he yelled, banging the door before wrenching it open. A white wall loomed over him, fitted into a black frame, with Bill nowhere in sight. He slowly shook his head as he backed away, standing there until he sagged to the floor. This could have been _ over_. And Bill knew that.

He dropped his head into his hands. 

What did he want? He acted like he knew him from somewhere, but, one, that was impossible, and two, Bill was toying with him. He’d been toying with him. And he needed to find a way to navigate through it, but everything moved so fast. When Dipper snapped at him—he winced just thinking about it. He was getting consequences for that. The look in Bill’s eye... this was fun for him. And sooner or later, that fun was going to dry out.

He had to get out of here, if only because he put everyone in danger because he didn’t tell anyone about Bill’s stupid book. Somehow, putting sacrificial requirements—and that reading the book was one of them—at the end seemed exactly what Bill would do. He couldn’t show it to anyone because he thought he was protecting them and now that they were threatened anyway he should’ve—should’ve—

“I’m sorry, Mabel,” he murmured. He never should’ve dragged her into investigating that stupid cult, and now he put her in danger. 

He took in a deep breath, before he climbed to his feet. Bill could be looking for Mabel, for Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford now. He had to move. 

The hallway gaped on either side of him like a rock and a hard place, so he set course for the door in front of him. The one that could’ve led back home. Hesitantly, he knocked. “The library?”

The door creaked open, light pouring out. For a second he couldn’t see anything, it was so bright. When his eyes adjusted, the issue became more about understanding what he was seeing. 

Was that a _ sky_?

Dipper slammed the door shut. “The library,” he enunciated. 

He opened to the same sky. Puffy clouds weaved through the sky, and threw long shadows over towering bookshelves. The books were… moving. They crawled up and down the aisles, pages fluttering on the marble floors like caterpillar legs. Some of them flew, flapping their leather covers like wings, and somehow, it worked. They flew up and down shelves and across them, sometimes in flocks, sometimes alone. 

A faint, vanilla breeze blew at his face, mixed with the sharpness of new paper. Next to the door, two books snarled at each other, covers raised like hackles.

“On the bright side,” he said, watching them circle each other, “at least nothing can surprise me now.”

Someone gasped on the other side of the door and he jumped. 

“Their eyes are so googly!” she giggled, darting to the books as they pounced.

“Mabel?” He blinked, hard. After a brief pause, he cautiously followed after her. The grey shades of her robe caught the weird library sunlight as she revolved around the fight like some giant hand had batted the moon. Dark splotches speckled down her front, and usually it was paint and dyes she forgot to spell away, but he could see through her to the bookshelves behind her.

“Dipper!” She waved, grinning ear to ear, then pointed at the books ripping pages out of each other. “Isn’t this what you really do at the library?”

“U-um, not…” His voice died as his feet stammered around the fight, and he reached a hand to her face. It wasn’t even cold. His hand just slid through her cheek like it wasn’t there. 

“No no no no,” he burst, “I—I saw you a day ago and you were fine! I got caught, we were supposed to meet at breakfast, but that didn’t—Bill couldn’t have—I-I thought I had—I’m—“

“Woah woah woah!” she said, flailing her hands. “You think I’d come back dressed like this? There’s not nearly enough rainbow!”

“I don’t know, maybe! I don’t know why you’re here or why I’m here but if you’re floating and see-through and—and _ dead_, maybe you’re a ghost!”

“I’m not, I think! I’m just here to take you to the books.”

“_What_?” 

“Those,” she said, pointing to the fight again. One of them pried the other flat, standing and was sucking the pages out of its victim. High-pitched squealing filled the air as it tossed left and right before throwing the other off. It staggered into an aisle, bookbinding ruined. The winner flapped its cover like it was heckling, before dropping its pages into a puddle of ink and burbling happily. 

“Okay,” he said, blinking, and turned back to her. “What are you?”

“I’m Mabel, duh. You’ve only known me all your life.”

“You said you didn’t think you were dead. I’m pretty sure Mabel would know, one way or another.”

“Beats me, I just work here.”

“Do you need to look like her to do that?” he asked skeptically. 

“Hey! It’s not my fault you called my name,” she said, sticking out her tongue. 

“What? I didn’t—_oh_,” he said, eyes widening. Swallowing, he asked, “Will that happen every time I say someone’s name?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He opened his mouth to say of course it was, Bill could have a name to a face, and he already has one if he showed up right now, before he cut himself off. Mabel—whoever, whatever she was—never gave him a straight answer. Could Bill lie like that? Or did he need to, if it wasn’t him doing it?

“I came here by mistake,” he said slowly. “Sorry, I’ll just, uh, go?” 

“But you told the door ‘library’.”

“I, you know me, can’t wait to see a library,” he said, backing away with a nervous smile. 

“Don’t you want to escape?”

He froze, hand on the latch. Of course she knew. There had to be another way to escape, and hopefully she’d leave before Bill saw her. And if it was Bill dressed up as Mabel then this was him leaving. He looked back, nodding hesitantly. “Thanks but I’ll go,” he said. 

“Wait, if you leave then I—”

“Thanks!” he called, before slipping into the hall and shutting the door behind him. 

Sighing in relief, he leaned against the wood and wiped the sweat off his face with the sacrificial robe. There was a nice sense of vindication mildly ruining something of Bill’s. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

But… his head twitched to the door. Was someone laughing? He stilled, and pressed an ear to it. There were pages sliding against something, probably a floor, and then there was Mabel. He could picture her cooing over the book in front of her, flitting around the air and trying to pet it, only for her hand to slip through for the sixth time. 

Swallowing, he muttered, “Library,” just in case, and tore open the door again. Mabel had flipped herself upside-down, arms dangling to the floor. She was trying to ruffle the ink-drenched book slithering away from the arena. It went through the transparent curtain of her hair. 

“Oh hey!” She swiveled to him, waving before her hand froze. She spun away, roughly crossing her arms.

For a second, his heart wrenched. “Hey,” he said softly. This wasn’t Mabel, he knew that. He sighed. “I’m guessing you won’t leave unless I find something I want?” he asked. 

She nodded. 

“Can I ask why?”

She shook her head, which. He expected. 

“Okay,” he said, “then would you go away if I did find any book?”

Her shoulders stiffened, before she shook her head. 

Dipper took a deep breath. So he couldn’t just take a random book. “It has to be something I actually want?” he asked, hoping she’d say no. 

She nodded. Must’ve been a stupid Mindscape thing. 

Then, “Could you take me to where the books on escaping this place are?”

Glumly, she flipped herself right-side up again and floated down an aisle. 

Could she be a library spirit or something and not some extension of Bill? The apology itched his tongue like sand, he just wanted to get it out. He didn’t… want to see her that way, shoulders stiff, hands gripping her arms like she was holding herself together. Because of him. 

If he said sorry, she might feel better. He jogged after her before she could fade around the edge of a grey bookshelf. She bobbed lightly in the air, as if waves were gently pushing her away. 

“I—uh,” he stammered, before biting his lip. And what if this was Bill, or something that answered to him? What could he do with an apology? What could he do to Mabel if they didn’t make this quick?

Words died. Ahead, he saw Mabel still, floating. She blended in with all the grey. 

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Never mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can pretend to life lol


End file.
